


three more out

by Ffwydriad



Category: Sagas of Sundry: Dread (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Drabbles, Gen, I rewatched Dread and the one night only panel and now i have Feels, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Non-Chronological, Non-Graphic Violence, Spoilers, references to suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ffwydriad/pseuds/Ffwydriad
Summary: There is a boy with a bomb.
Relationships: Raina Fuller & Kayden & Sat & Tanner Sills & Darby Trellis
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	three more out

4.

There is a boy with a bomb. 

8.

Darby’s talking to the open air, or maybe she’s talking to the skull in her hand, he’s not sure what’s better, what’s worse, what makes more sense. Her eyes are wide, and it’s fucking creepy, how happy she looks. 

She tells them that the Goat Man has told her how to cleanse this land of evil. How it spoke to her in her mind and gave her the clues. She tells them about the ritual that might bring Tanner back. 

Sat’s not turning away, after that, and Raina’s not turning away, after their little confession, and Darby’s not turning away, after this revelation, which means that they’re going to see this through, until the end. 

He slings his backpack over his shoulders and he tries not to think about voices he heard, whispering bones, about cleansing this land with fire. 

For the first time, tonight- today- what the fuck ever - the bomb feels heavy in his bag. 

Three more to get out. Three more. 

3.

He started building the bomb after Sat called to plan the little reunion. 

It wasn’t a plan, so much as an instinct. It only felt right. They died, there, a year ago, and it was only fair that they proved it, that they stayed dead. Maybe he’d get the Goat Man, if it was real. Maybe he'd get something worse. 

He was going to get all of them, though, and he was going to get himself, and that’s what really mattered.

He stuck a bomb in his backpack, and brass knuckles in his jacket pocket, and didn’t bother to bring any more supplies. 

One way or another, he wasn’t making it off Black Mountain. 

10.

He’s lucky that it’s night, when they get back down to where they parked, as they all agree to drive back to his place, because he’s pretty sure that if anyone saw him, they’d call the cops. He can’t say that he’d even blame them - he did just murder a man. A monster. A something. The blood is dry now, caked, and it’s all over him. There’s blood on Darby’s shirt, mixed with so much mud and gore that it doesn’t even look like it, and matching bloodstains on each of their sleeves, right above their wrists. 

All this blood, and with Sat lying near passed out from exhaustion in his back seat, cops would have ground to search the car. Which would mean they'd find the bomb. 

It’s sitting in his front seat, because he couldn’t get rid of it. If he got rid of it, if he tossed the bag, they'd notice, they’d ask, and he’s not quite willing to explain who he almost was, who, exactly, he’s spent the last year being. 

They don’t need to know that. 

They just need to know that they got out safe, and that they’re going to stay that way. 

5.

He grabs for his bag and he clutches it close as the world falls apart around them - no, just the building, just that shitty old cabin, because the world had always gone on fine no matter what happened to the five of them. 

Sat is screaming, because she’s lost everything. 

He has everything, here, in his hands. There’s nothing left that matters, but the bomb. 

2.

Everyone’s a bomb, he thinks, sitting in a classroom and not learning any art at all. They’re pretending not to be, but they are. 

Everyone’s a bomb, and they’re lying, saying that they’ll never explode, that they couldn’t. Trying to get other people to believe it. Trying to get themselves to believe it. 

At least he knows what he is. At least he knows the truth. 

9.

He rushes at the man with the chainsaw, and lands a blow solidly into his jaw, again, and again, and again, not caring what happens to him, because this means that he gets three out. 

He’s beating a man to a bloody pulp, with nothing but hands and a strip of metal, beating him down and down again, crushing him, burning him, destroying him. 

Is this what bombs feel like? To destroy everything so utterly without any thought?

He would’ve thought it felt better. Instead, it feels opening his chest to find a cavern, free of everything, even cobwebs. 

6.

He slaps himself in the face for Tanner. Hard. Harder. He actually feels it, and it’s the only thing that he can feel. 

There’s a bomb sitting by his feet, and any moment, he could grab it, any moment, it could blow. 

They’re already a fucking powder keg, though. They’re already a bomb all on their own, and it’s delicious. 

He stopped tasting anything but pain and death a long long time ago. 

1.

He starts building the bomb the day he doesn’t die, up on the mountain. The day he comes back and no one misses him. 

He doesn’t talk to them, and they don’t talk to him - no, he talks to Sat, while he’s still pretending. It’s better this way, because it has to be. Because who wants to be friends with weapons? 

He carries around the bomb, right clutched to his heart, and pretends that fire is a warmth and not a hunger eating him alive. He stops listening to everything but the bomb, and he watches all illusions fall away. 

He’s always been a bomb. Always been something destructive. Tanner saw it. The town saw it. The four of them saw it, in the end. 

So he embraces it. 

Bombs don’t get hurt; they hurt others. He’s always been good at hurting others. 

11.

He leaves the backpack in the car. 

They try and make him take the first shower, but he makes Darby take it - she’s just as gross, and most of what’s on him is on his clothes, not on his skin. 

He takes the second shower, and scrapes at his skin, leaving crossed lines of bright white against it. He doesn’t stay under for long, just enough to get rid of the blood and the death caked on him. 

He goes out to get pizza, because there’s no food in his place. He wasn’t exactly planning to come back here, again. 

None of them have slept, or eaten, really, in two days. Now, they’re going to eat pizza and collapse into his shitty mattress and forget the rest of the world for as long as they can. 

But first, he’s got a bomb to deal with. 

Unmaking the bomb is harder than making it ever was. He’s careful, delicate, despite all the ways he wants to just chuck it, bag and all, as far away as possible, and make it someone else’s problem. Instead, he separates it, piece by piece, and throws the discarded separates into a dumpster. 

If they notice how long it took him - and how could they, because time stopped being real two days ago and it won’t be real again until the sun is up, at least - they don’t say anything. 

They eat pizza, and they fall asleep close together, on that mattress, unable to be far apart, unable to be alone. 

7.

Tanner is dead.

Tanner is dead, and he’s not a bomb, he’s just tired and desperate and trying to be alive. Tanner is dead, and it was supposed to be him, supposed to be him exploding and taking out everything along with him, not this. 

There’s an empty cavern in his chest, and there used to be a heart there, and the loss of it, it burns. 

He doesn’t want this to end in fire. He doesn’t want them to end here. They’re his best friends, and he doesn’t want them to end here, and he doesn’t want them to be fucked up like he is, doesn’t want them to hurt. 

It doesn’t matter how he does it; he’s getting them out. 

Three more out. 

Three more out. 

12.

There is a boy who’s a bomb. 

He’s trying not to be, though, and it might be working. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at midnight the night after I rewatched all of dread after binging through all the fanfic, because I had the image of Kayden, post-Black Mountain, driving home covered in blood with Sat passed out in the back seat and a bomb in the passenger and thinking, man, it would be a hella funny ending if he just got arrested. 
> 
> And then I kept writing, and it got weird, and it turned in to this? Idk i'm kind of proud of it.


End file.
